TES V: Skyrim - An Unlikely Dragonborn
by CaitPotate
Summary: Dar'Badr has always made a conscious effort to stay out of the Civil War that had been ravaging Skyrim for the past few years. But when he is captured in an Imperial ambush meant for Ulfric Stormcloak and his men, the young Khajiit finds himself falling right into the middle of it.
1. Prologue

_**Author's Note**_

_Hey there. Welcome to my fanfiction. As I'm sure you've realised this one's based on The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. I've been planning this one for a while and I've been really excited to start writing it so I could share it with you guys!_

_I really hope you enjoy the story. Leave a review and give me your thoughts if you do! :) Your feedback means a lot to me and I'd love to hear from you._

_Also, I'm making pretty much all the cities in my story bigger than they are in the actual game; I've always thought they were a bit unimpressive._

_Anywho! Sit back, grab a bite to eat, maybe a hot beverage, and enjoy!_

**The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim**

**An Unlikely Dragonborn.**

**Prologue.**

A chill breeze swept across the land as Dar'Badr made his careful way along the rocky slopes of Skyrim. The Khajiit shivered as the wind ruffled his dark grey fur, and he pulled his thick cloak tighter around his muscular form.

He'd been travelling for nine days now. He'd left Whiterun on bad terms, having been caught stealing a Daedra heart from Arcadia's Cauldron, and had been pursued by the town guards a good seven miles from the city before he managed to lose them. He'd gotten away without losing the heart however, so he'd decided to take it to his old colleague Ma'Dran, whom he knew peddled his goods between Riften and Dawnstar. He'd found Ma'Dran just past Darkwater Pass, and the trader had been happy to take it off his hands for a hefty sum of gold, and it now rattled in Badr's coin purse as he walked.

He regretted leaving the caravan when he did, although he'd had no choice; the road they were taking led east to Riften, and he wanted to go southwest to cross the border into Cyrodiil and make his way to Cheydinhal to find his cousin M'Issra. He knew she'd take him in and erase his criminal past. In fact she'd probably encourage him to keep it up.

Badr smirked at the thought of his cousin. They'd met only once at a gathering to celebrate her birthday in Bruma almost twelve years ago. Badr had been a mere eight years old, and his mother had told him M'Issra was turning twenty seven. So Badr had shyly approached her to wish her a happy birthday. She'd smiled a cunning smile and ruffled his fur, making him giggle. Then he'd sat down with all the other cubs at the event and listened to her and her gang tell stories of their adventures through Tamriel, thieving and robbing until they were rich enough to afford anything they'd ever wanted. Indeed, they did look like they had it all figured out. M'Issra and her gang were all garbed in rich-looking leathers and cloth, and each had a garish array of gold jewellery. It had been on that day that Badr decided he wanted to be a thief.

Badr smiled as he recalled the three day event, it had been one the best times of his childhood. He would celebrate his twentieth year in two moons, and he hoped to be well into Cyrodiil by then. The young Khajiit paused at the top of a particularly steep hill to catch his breath and peer into the distance ahead of him. He could see Helgen on the horizon ahead of him, and he pondered whether he should risk travelling through the city on his way to the border. Deciding against it he started to descend the slope before him. He was glad to be leaving Skyrim and its cursed mountains and chill winds. Many a morn had found Badr gazing across the harsh land and longing for the rolling deserts and tropical forests of Elsweyr.

Shaking off the home sickness, Badr jogged down the hill, coming out on the main road to Helgen. There was little foot traffic this late in the evening, so his way was clear and fast. He travelled a few miles up the road before he found a trail leading further south. He followed the narrow, winding path until night fully descended upon the land. In the hour between twilight and moonlight, Badr stopped a little way off the path to eat a light dinner. Not wanting to risk being spotted, he decided against lighting a fire; it wasn't like he needed it to see, anyway. Instead he sat huddled in his thick cloak munching on cold, dried mutton and stale bread. It was a miserable meal, but he simply dealt with it and moved on; he wasn't one to complain. Golden light flickered in the distance as guards patrolled the walls of Helgen. Badr gazed at them longingly, wishing for nought but a pint of honeyed mead and a fire to warm his freezing fingers. Sighing agitatedly, he moved on.

Stars winked above him as Badr trudged along the path. Tamriel's two moons soon came out to wash the land in silvery light. It wasn't long before a light snowfall began drifting down around him, settling on his head and shoulders as he made his way along. He knew he must be nearing Bonechill Passage; he could already see the mountains that bordered Skyrim looming to the south. It was much too treacherous to navigate Bonechill at night, despite his excellent night vision, and he would rather keep going past Falkreath than stop and sleep out here. He pressed onward.

It was three hours before dawn when Falkreath became visible through the trees of the frozen forest. It wouldn't be hard to slip by unnoticed on the south side of the city, and Badr didn't wait to contemplate his route further; he just wanted to get into Cyrodiil. He slipped silently through the trees as guards patrolled the outer reaches of the small city. After leaving the reach of the guards' torchlight, Badr made his way back onto the main road leading towards the border; it was the easiest way across. He felt rather exposed walking along the wide, open road, quickening his pace until he was almost jogging. He had a bad feeling creeping up in his gut, and the fur on the back of neck was on end, his skin prickling uncomfortably. He scanned the dark forest surrounding him for movement, but saw nothing. He tried to ignore the feeling, dismissing it as nerves about his soon-to-be-successful escape from Skyrim.

He was about an hour away from the border crossing when he heard voices ahead of him and to his right. He quickly ducked off the road and dove into a low hollow, watching to see who it was. After a few minutes a troop of mounted Stormcloak soldiers appeared, chatting idly and riding towards Falkreath. Badr cursed silently; he'd have to wait for them to pass before he moved on. The forest surrounding him was silent as the Stormcloaks approached. The only sound was his own steady, quiet breathing and Stormcloaks' chatter. Then it struck him – that was why he'd felt so on edge. The forest was totally silent. Not an owl hooted nor a cricket chirped in the gloom. It was unnaturally silent. The Khajiit had barely a moment to contemplate this before he heard a thundering of hooves coming from Falkreath. The cat jumped in fright and whirled around to look for the source of the noise. A Nord was barrelling down the road towards the Stormcloaks on a bay horse, yelling for them to get out of his way. He led another three horses behind him, and yelling could be heard from further towards Falkreath. He was a horse thief. He must be trying to get into Cyrodiil and out of the guards' reach, Badr thought. The head of the Stormcloak troop yelled out to the thief, commanding him to stop in a deep, booming voice. He rode forward a few feet and suddenly the snapping of a rope split the air and a log fell from somewhere above Badr's head to slam into the Stormcloak's horse. The horse screamed as its body was broken, and Badr winced at the horrific sound. The forest around him exploded into noise and movement as Imperial soldiers streamed out of the trees surrounding the road. They quickly encircled the Stormcloaks, screaming battle cries and drawing their swords as the troop struggled to regain their composure to fight back. At least three Imperial leapt over the hollow where Badr was hiding to sprint towards the confrontation. The horse thief, going too fast to do anything else, rode straight into the fray. Arrows flew over Badr's head at the Stormcloaks as they tried to fight off the Imperial ambush. Badr's eyes darted around the scene unfolding around him, searching for an escape route; he had to get out of there _now._

The cat quietly drew his daggers and crept out of his hollow, being careful to stay low and out of sight. He quickly made his way around the fight, picking his way around the Imperial archers hidden between the trees. Not for the first time Badr thanked the deities he had stolen this cloak a few weeks ago from Radiant Raiment in Solitude. It was a deep navy blue mottled with grey, and it hid him well from the eyes of the soldiers. He was almost past the main body of the conflict when he rounded a tree and almost tripped over an Imperial. The man stared at Badr, momentarily taken off-guard by his sudden appearance, before recovering and lashing out at him with the wood of his bow. Badr barely dodged the swipe, sidestepping gracefully out of the way to lash out with his daggers in an attempt to end the fight quickly. He didn't have time for this; he was so close to the border! His knives sliced through the soldier's helmet straps, and it slipped over his eye. Taking the opportunity without second thought, Badr slashed the soldier's throat and darted back as the body thumped to the ground in front of him. The sound of their brief struggle had alerted the surrounding soldiers of Badr's presence, and they were all drawing their swords to pursue him. Badr cursed under his breath and ran off into the forest, dodging sword blows as best he could. His best bet was to get to the side of the road so he could properly take advantage of his speed, then make a run for the crossing.

Badr burst through the trees and into the open, the soldiers hot on his heels. He was dimly aware of the battle raging around him, and acknowledged that the Stormcloaks were losing. He nimbly avoided the battling soldiers' flailing weapons, managing to get past the fray. The soldiers pursuing him were immediately caught up in the main fight, and so could not pursue him.

Badr's heart leapt, nothing but road stretching before him, and he picked up speed to sprint for the crossing. He'd only gotten a few feet when he was suddenly jerked backwards by the throat. Panic surged within him as his air supply was cut off and he was pulled to the ground. He landed heavily on his side, but recovered quickly, rolling to his hands and knees to see what had stopped him. His stomach dropped as his gaze alighted upon the shaft of an arrow lodged deep between two cobblestones. The arrow had pierced the bottom of his cloak and it was now tethered to the ground. Loathe to leave the hard-won cloak behind, Badr wrenched at the arrow, desperately trying to free it from the stonework. He scowled at it when it refused to budge, pulling at it fiercely, willing the shaft to break or the arrowhead to pull free. He looked up at the battle raging before him, eyes darting around the moonlit scene, still pulling at the arrow. His daggers had been thrown from his hands when he'd been pulled over, and now he whipped his head around, looking for them and praying that they were in reach. He spotted one of them on the stone a few feet away, and he lunged for it. He yanked on the cloak and reached for the dagger, cursing silently as fabric tightened around his throat as he stretched towards it. He cried out in triumph as his fingers closed over the hilt. He clutched it tightly and crawled back to where the arrow was pinning him to the ground. Eyes darting around the scene before him, Badr started sawing at arrow shaft. He managed to saw almost a quarter of the way through before an Imperial soldier broke off from the fight and charged him, sword raised to strike him down. Badr barely raised his dagger in time to block the swipe. The sword collided with his dagger with the soldier's weight behind it, and it took all of Badr strength not to buckle under the blow. The soldier broke away to swipe at him again, and he parried the blow, nimbly getting to his feet. He was careful to stay close to the arrow that tethered him, not wanting to be thrown off balance.

Almost half the Stormcloaks had been captured by this stage, and about a third of the Imperials lay dead. A couple more soldiers spotted Badr struggling to fight off their comrade with his single dagger and, seeing an easy kill, ran over to join in the fight. Badr snarled at them bitterly as they circled him, throwing taunts and jeers at him as they basked in their own sense of superiority. Badr saw one of the soldiers tense as he prepared to strike, and he whirled around to block his strike. He slashed at the Imperial's sword hand, missing by a hairs breadth as the man pulled away. He turned to block another attack, this time landing a blow on the man's hand, almost cutting straight through his thumb. The man cried out in pain and his sword clattered to the ground. Badr picked it up and whirled around to slash his throat. He blocked a blow from another soldier and the other slashed at him while his blades were locked. He ducked out of the way, the blade nicking his ear. Blood trickled down his forehead and into his eye. He wiped it away angrily. Things had gone downhill fast. The first soldier drew his sword up for an overhand blow, his sword arcing down to connect with Badr's sloppy block. The Khajiit staggered sideways slightly and, seeing his chance, the other soldier cut at his legs. Badr barely got out of the way, and doing so cost him his balance. He was too far away from the arrow now and his cloak was dragging him down. He sidestepped ineptly past one of soldiers, all grace gone now as he desperately tried to stay alive. He parried an oncoming blow and sidestepped again, staggering and trying to get behind the soldier to disable him and even the odds somewhat. Badr regained his balance and struck out at one of the soldiers, trying to get them on the defensive. The man barely managed to block the savage blow and Badr did not let up. He swung his stolen sword at the man, driving him to his knees. He was about to deal a killing blow when suddenly he was violently dragged backwards by the throat. He crashed to the ground in a heap, his weapons once again jerked from his grip. He looked up to see the other Imperial standing on his cloak. The man had a triumphant sneer on his face as he loomed above Badr, sword in hand. Badr screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the deathblow, but it never came. Instead the Imperial brought the hilt of his sword down hard on Badr's skull, knocking him out cold.

The battle didn't last much longer once Badr lost consciousness. He lay slumped on his cloak, his blood seeping into the thick wool, staining it crimson. The Stormcloaks fought bitterly against the Imperials, but they were outnumbered, and soon all of them fell. The Imperials managed to successfully capture all but six of the rebel troop, and they were now binding their wrists and dragging them off to be loaded into the wagons they had hidden nearby. No one knew what to do with the Khajiit and the horse thief, so their captain, Legate Rikke made an executive decision to take them along.

She had orders to take the rebel prisoners to Helgen. What were two more sods to join them at the headsman's axe?


	2. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note**_

_I'm making pretty much all of the cities bigger in my story than they are in the game. I've always thought they were a bit unimpressive. _

_Enjoy._

**Chapter One**

Dar' Badr groaned and shifted his tail from underneath him as he regained consciousness. His ears pricked at the sound of horses chuffing, reins chinking, and wagon wheels crunching over stone and dirt. His hands were bound, the fur on his wrists rubbed away and the soft skin underneath raw from the harsh fabric. His neck was stiff and sore from being slumped over for so long, and he tried to stretch it out a little bit. It proved a difficult task with bound hands.

A light breeze ruffled his fur as he rubbed the bleariness from his eyes and looked around. He saw that he was, indeed, sitting in the back of a moving wagon. A Nord was sitting across from him, staring at the other two wagons ahead of them, apparently deep in thought. He was wearing Stormcloak armour and had shoulder length blonde hair and a choppy beard. Next to the rebel sat another Nord dressed in rags, his hands bound and his eyes downcast. His face was smeared with dirt and his hair appeared brown, though it was also caked with dirt. Badr recognised him as the horse thief trying to get over the border. Next to Badr sat another Nord, this one dressed quite regally in a large fur coat. His hands were also bound, and he was gagged. He stared at Badr impassively, which made him a little uncomfortable. Badr shifted nervously in his seat and turned to look ahead. Two wagons were rattling along ahead of them, Imperials guiding the stocky horses along the packed dirt path. Both wagons had four or five Nords seated in the back. All were in Stormcloak garb.

This wasn't good. It took him only a moment to remember the previous night's events; the Imperials must have taken him with all the other prisoners. He wondered where they were going. Suddenly the Nord dressed in rebel attire turned to face Badr, his expression light hearted despite their situation.

"Hey, you." He said. "You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." Badr's ears flattened to his skull and his brows knitted together in a scowl at the mention of Imperials, which seemed to amuse the rebel Nord.

"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you I could've stolen those horses and be halfway to Hammerfell." Said the horse thief bitterly. He then turned his angry gaze on Badr. "You there. You and me – we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"We were there. We both joined the fight, albeit unintentionally." Badr replied sternly. "These Stormcloaks are not the only ones that fought the Empire last night."

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." The Stormcloak added, nodding his head in approval at Badr. The Imperial soldier driving the wagon turned back to yell at prisoners, telling them to shut their mouths. Badr's ears angled back in annoyance at his words. The thief, apparently ignoring the soldier's command, gestured to the gagged man.

"And what's wrong with him, huh?" He asked rudely.

"Watch your tongue!" The rebel scolded harshly, making Badr smirk. "You're talking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King." Badr's smile dropped from his face to be replaced by fear. His ears drooped and he ducked his head slightly, humbled to be in the presence of such a powerful man. He noticed that the thief had grown pale.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion." He said, sudden fear making his voice shake. "But if they've captured you… Oh gods, where are they taking us?" Badr cursed under his breath as he gazed at Ulfric. The man was regal even when bound and gagged; how had he not realised it was him? Where on earth were they going if the Empire had captured the leader of the Stormcloaks? The thought ran circles in Badr's mind, and he almost missed the rebel soldier say,

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits." Badr's breath caught in his throat at that; he didn't want to die. He had been so close to his escape, and now freedom was not the only thing being torn away from him. The horse thief was going into hysterics.

"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening." He was saying, his voice becoming more and more frantic. In an effort to calm him down the rebel asked the thief where he was from.

"Why do you care?" The thief snapped.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." The rebel replied evenly. This seemed to humble the thief somewhat, and he hung his head in shame.

"Rorikstead. I'm… I'm from Rorikstead." He muttered sombrely. The rebel seemed as if he were about to say something, when suddenly an Imperial called out from up ahead.

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" Badr turned to face the road ahead, and was surprised to see Helgen's main gate looming before them. He hadn't witnessed their approach to the city, lost as he was in his fellow prisoners' conversation. There were Imperial soldiers everywhere he looked. Groups of them were herding citizen away from the street, and a few groups were marching towards the city centre ahead of the wagons. There were at least ten of them directly above the gate, and numerous others dotting the walls around the city. He heard a rough voice yell back at the soldier that had spoken, telling him to hurry up and get the prisoners ready.

The wagons rattled through the open gate and followed the main road towards the city square. The thief began to pray to the divines under his breath as the wagon rolled through the city, its inhabitants staring at them through half-open windows and doors. Badr rolled his eyes at the thief; he'd never put much stock in the divines and believed they'd given up hope on their world, if they even existed at all. The rebel directed Badr's gaze towards a pompous-looking man in gold armour talking with a Thalmor. He was astride a large, bay warhorse, and the scowl on his face looked like it had been there for years.

"Look at him." The rebel muttered coldly. "General Tullius, the Military Governor." Badr glanced at him, wondering why he hated the man so. It was fair enough to hate the Empire – Badr himself hoped every day to hear tell that it had crumbled and collapsed under the weight of its self-imposed importance – but to have such hatred directed at one person… Badr shook his head and turned attention back to the General as the rebel continued.

"And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this." The Thalmor in question was a regal-looking Altmer atop a magnificent white steed. The wagon they were riding rolled up a hill and around a corner, and the General and the Thalmor disappeared from view.

The group remained silent as they rolled through the city. Badr was surprised to see how big it was; he'd never been to Helgen. Not a single building was less than two storeys high along the main road. Bright signs hung above doorways and porches, broadcasting store names to the city goers. The Axe & Anvil. The Crafty Sage. The Bear's Den. Store upon store lined the busy streets. People bustled around the shopfronts, all walking towards the square. Badr took it all in as wagon rolled along. He awkwardly pulled his cowl over his head as the people stared at them intently. Some looked fearful, as if one of their own might be in one of the wagons, while others looked triumphant and proud that the men and women had been captured. After a while the rebel spoke up again.

"This is Helgen." He said wistfully. Badr looked up to meet his gaze, but the man was looking out over the city. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in." Badr looked at the rebel sadly. The man's little anecdote incited bittersweet memories within Badr that he hadn't thought about for a long time.

He thought back on the many days he'd spent with Lilitha, his beloved Altmer in Solitude. She was a High Elf, though she had Dunmer blood in her. The mix had given her a unique, bluish skin tone that had a gold sheen in the sunlight. It had also made her eyes turn a magnificent coppery orange. They'd met when they were seventeen, when he had defended her against a gang of thugs, who had cornered her in an alley and tried to mug her. She'd been stabbed in stomach before he could stop them, and Badr had carried her to the closest healer, and had watched over her as she healed. Every day that he sat by her bed, replacing the wild flowers that sat on the windowsill and helping her drink and eat until she was strong enough to do so herself, and he soon found himself falling or the beautiful elf. Once she had recovered she and her mother had both insisted that they repay him for his kindness. He had refused all offers of gold and gemstones, instead asking her if she would agree to go to lunch with him. She'd eagerly agreed and, from then onward, they'd become inseparable. After a few months in the city, Badr was caught stealing an expensive crate of Firebrand Wine, and had been put in jail. Not content to wait out his sentence, Badr had broken out using a lock pick he'd managed to conceal on his person when he'd been locked up. He immediately went to find Lilitha. He knew he could not stay in Solitude, but he didn't want to leave that wonderful girl. Never in his young life had he been so in love with a person until that moment. He scaled the brickwork of her beautiful home in the noble region of Solitude, near the Blue Palace, to knock on her window. She had opened it and quietly demanded what he was doing there.

"Father will _murder_ you if he finds you here!" She'd hissed, pulling him in for a tight hug. "You idiot, Badr! Why did you have to go and get yourself caught." He'd smirked at that; he'd always been amused that she didn't question his criminal tendencies. He told her he'd broken out of prison, and come to fetch her so they could go away together. His horse, Dyrman was tethered at the stables outside the city gates, ready or their departure. Lilitha went pale as she listened to him beg her to come away with him, her golden lips quivering as tears brimmed in her eyes.

"Y-you know I can't leave, Badr." She whimpered, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

"You have nothing to worry about, dearest." Badr had assured her, tenderly wiping the tear from her cheek. "You know I can provide for you." Suddenly she turned, pushing his hand away and stepping back into her room.

"Can you though? You've been caught before, who says you cannot be caught again?" She'd demanded. "What if you can't escape? Or what if you do once we've made a life for ourselves somewhere? I won't live a life on the run." Badr had begged her to join him, telling her over and over that he would always be there for her, and that he might as well go back to jail if he wasn't to be with her – she was everything to him. She rejected everything he said, always coming up with a reason to stay.

"Don't you love me?" Badr said suddenly, immediately regretting the hasty words when pain contorted Lilitha's face.

"Of course I love you, Badr." She said, rushing over to lay a hand on his soft cheek. "But I ca-"

Suddenly her bedroom door burst open and her father stormed in, his face red with rage and sword in hand. He grabbed his daughter's arm and wrenched her away from the window. Badr darted out of reach as the man swiped at him with the sword and shouted obscenities.

"Please, Lilitha." Badr begged, but she only shook her head. He had no choice but to flee when her father began climbing out of the window to pursue him. Badr had leapt from the second story rooftop to land deftly on the balls of his feet. With a final look at his beloved's home he had run to the stables, mounted Dyrman and rode into the night, tears streaming down his face.

A single tear rolled down Badr's face, and he angrily wiped it away with his bound hands. He glanced over at the rebel, relief seeping through him when he saw that man hadn't noticed. Suddenly he turned to the Khajiit, a sad smile on his face.

"Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers made me feel so safe." Badr nodded in agreement, not trusting his voice, and shifted to look ahead as they continued on through the city. They passed an inn as they were nearing the square, and he saw a young boy sitting on the railing and peering at the wagons as they passed. The boy turned to the man standing beside him and tugged on his sleeve.

"Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?" He asked innocently.

"They're bad people." His father replied. "You need to go inside, little cub."

"Why?" The child pouted. "I want to watch the soldiers."

"Inside the inn, now." His father insisted. The boy sighed and got off the railing to trudge towards the door.

"Yes, papa." He mumbled sadly. Badr frowned at the scene and turned back to road ahead, trying to ignore the man's statement. He was a thief, yes. But he wasn't a bad person.

The wagons soon reached the square, and the soldiers steering them formed a line in one corner. Badr's wagon was furthest out, and he watched as a muscular man set up a block on a podium on the far end of the square. The thief started to panic again.

"Wh-why are we stopping?" He asked frantically.

"Why do you think? End of the line." The rebel replied sombrely. The thief remained silent. The wagon juddered to halt and the four got to their feet.

"Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us." The rebel said. This gave Badr an insane urge to laugh as he followed Ulfric and the thief as she stepped off the back of the wagon. The thief was frantically gesturing between himself and Badr, pleading with the Imperials.

"No, please!" He cried. "We're not rebels."

"Face your death with some courage, thief." Badr snapped inordinately as he too stepped down onto the dirty cobblestones. The thief would not let up.

"You have to tell them." He said to the rebel. "We're not with you! This is a mistake." The Imperials and the rebel alike ignored his pleas, and an Imperial commander moved along the procedure.

"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time." She said loudly.

"Empire loves their damned lists." The rebel muttered as she took a list from the man standing beside her and started to read. One by one the Stormcloaks stepped forward to walk through the crowd of spectators that had formed in the square to take their positions beside the podium. Both Ulfric and the rebel, whose name was Ralof, both stepped forward obediently when their names were called. Ralof bid Badr a warm goodbye as he walked away to face his doom, and it instilled a strange sense of confidence within the cat. Suddenly,

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

"No, I'm not a rebel. You can't do this!" The thief cried desperately. Before anyone could react Lokir sprinted away, going towards the main road.

"Halt!" The commander cried as he bolted away. "Archers." The archers positioned along the balconies of the buildings surrounding the square raised their bows and fired, and Badr winced as Lokir was hit by at least six of around ten arrows fired. The commander turned back to Badr and the remaining Stormcloaks.

"Anyone else feel like running?" She demanded. Nought but silence answered her. The rest of the Stormcloaks' names were read out, and each of them joined their comrades beside the podium, until Badr was the only one left. The commander went to follow the last Stormcloak towards the podium, but the man beside her stopped her.

"Wait." He said, gesturing towards Badr. "You there. Step forward." Badr did as he asked while the commander checked her list.

"He's not on here." She said.

"Who are you?" The legionnaire asked. Badr drew back his shoulders and looked the Imperial in the eye as he answered.

"I am Dar'Badr of Corinthe." He said evenly. The man before him nodded in approval and turned to his commander.

"Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list."

"Forget the list. He goes to the block." The woman said coldly before turning and striding towards the podium. The soldier stared after her for a moment, mouth slightly agape, then turned back to Badr.

"I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Elsweyr." He murmured sadly. Badr thanked him quietly and followed the captain through the crowd of people. The path the people of Helgen had made closed behind him as he walked, and the crowd was soon whole. More people trickled in from the side streets and alleys as the event truly began.

Ulfric stood before the platform, still gagged, facing General Tullius, who stood above him on the podium. A pompous show of power, Badr thought bitterly.

"Ulfric Stormcloak." The General was saying. "Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." This incited both enraged and victorious cries from the crowd. Ulfric scowled at Tullius, muffled grunts barely audible beneath the gag.

"You started this war. You plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace." General Tullius finished his short speech and went to step towards the back of the podium when suddenly a strange, distant sound filled the air. It was almost drowned out by the now roaring crowd, and it seemed that Badr was the only one who heard it. The crowd quietened a little as a Stormcloak was beckoned forward. It was then the sound was heard by all, louder now. It like a chorus of horns, but slightly more guttural.

"What was that?" The guard who had processed Badr asked nervously.

"It's nothing, Hadvar. Carry on." Tullius commanded, stepping back. The captain saluted him as he passed her.

"Yes, General Tullius." She said enthusiastically. She turned to the priestess of Arkay. "Give them their last rites."

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved-"

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with." The Stormcloak interrupted, stepping up to the block.

"As you wish." The priestess said darkly. She proudly walked off the podium, descending the stairs and making her way towards the Temple of Arkay.

"Come on!" The Stormcloak demanded, sneering at the Imperial captain. "I haven't got all morning." The captain snarled at the man, placing a hand on his back and pushing him to his knees. As an extra show of disrespect, she put her foot between his shoulder blades as he crouched before her and she kicked him down onto the block.

"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?" The Stormcloak asked as the headsman brought his axe down upon his throat. Badr winced and the crowd burst into exalted cheers as blood spurted from his severed arteries and he was dragged to the side, out of the way. A female Stormcloak screamed obscenities at the Imperials over the noise of the huge congregation. Ralof, who had appeared to stand beside Badr, looked as if he were in agony at the loss of his comrade.

"As fearless in death as he was in life." He murmured. The noise of crowd died down and the captain stepped forward to announce the next to die.

"Next, the cat!" She cried, and the cheers continued. Badr snarled bitterly at the barbaric people. And they call Khajiit uncivilised, Badr thought as he approached the block. The captain pulled back his cowl to reveal his ears and braided mane, and pushed him down. He stared up at the headsman as he awaited his doom, regret filling his heart at things he never got to do. People he never got to say goodbye to. He closed his eyes as the headsman prepared to swing his mighty axe and rend his head from his neck.

Suddenly there was a huge gust of wind, cries of alarm from the Imperial sentries, and Badr was picked up off the ground and sent sprawling to the side of the block. The axe crashed down where his neck had been not a moment ago, and the crowd's excited cheers turned to screams of pure, unadulterated terror. Badr heaved himself onto his knees and looked up to see a huge, scaled beast perched on the top of the city's main hall. The beast spread its colossal wings and let out an ear splitting roar. It gathered itself to take off and, as it did it let forth a bout of searing flame across the square. It exploded against a building on the far side of the square, and the flames quickly spread across the thatched roof.

The people gathered in the square were scattering in all directions, desperately trying to get away from the great, black creature. It bellowed once more and took off, swooping low over the square. Badr scrambled to his feet as its tail swept towards the podium and ran for the edge. The winged creature's tail hit the far edge of the podium just as Badr was about to jump off, and he was sent flying across the square as it was wrenched from the ground beneath him. He grunted, the air knocked from his lungs, as he collided with the hard ground. He lay there for a few moments, dazed and struggling to breath, before Ralof appeared, dragging at his arm and telling him to move.

"Khajiit! Get up, come on!" He cried as he wrenched Badr to his feet. "The gods won't give you another chance." Badr shook of his dazedness and ran after Ralof, following him into a stone tower in the corner of the square; the fire could not harm them there.

A Stormcloak soldier closed the door behind them once they rushed inside. Badr was breathing hard when they came to a halt, his lungs still recovering from his violent impact on the cobblestones. There was a cacophony of voices surrounding him as he caught his breath, and he looked up to see Jarl Ulfric removing the gag from his mouth, his hands now unbound. He saw to Ralof's bindings and the pair began to converse.

"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?" Ralof asked quickly.

"Legends don't burn down cities." Ulfric replied. His voice was deep and melodious, and after a moment Badr realised that it must have been him who was hit by the log trap. The creature roared again outside, its Voice booming over the terrified screams of the townspeople. "We need to move, now!" Ulfric said.

"Up through the tower, go!" Ralof added, pushing Badr up the stone stairwell. They got to the second landing and suddenly the wall exploded inward. The creature loomed outside the gaping hole, and he peered inside, looking for prey. Badr and Ralof pressed themselves against the wall, out of the beast's sight. It roared and shot a fireball into the hole, then flew away. Ralof looked around the edge of the blackened hall and pulled Badr forward.

"See that inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going." He said. He shoved Badr towards the edge of the hole and ran off before the cat could protest. Badr looked down at the gaping hole in the roof of the inn and jumped down. He landed lightly on the balls of his feet and darted forward to jump down to the ground floor.

He slowly walked over to the hole where the door used to be and peered outside. The creature was flying around overhead, breathing fire on whatever pleased it and carrying people off to let them plummet back to earth. Badr took a deep breath and readied himself to delve into the throng of screaming people.

He needed to get out of the city as quickly as possible if he had any hope of survival.


	3. Quick Notice and Apology

_**Author's Note**_

_I'm sorry for how long it's taken me to get a chapter up. I have been so sick over the last seven days. It's like the flu or something; some mornings I've woken up and my body was aching so bad I could barely move._

_Speaking of moving… I've also been packing up my house to move recently! So I've been sick and moving house. It's been fun *dies* I'm moving house this weekend, and I'll be there to stay on Saturday night :) One bad thing that comes from that though is I'm not going to have internet for two weeks… So I won't be able to upload anything for a while. I know, it sucks and I'm sorry. But there's nothing I can do. I'll still be writing while I don't have internet, so I'll be able to just upload whatever I've gotten done when I have the internet back._

_It's been a hectic week. I'm also having a lot of trouble with my family about me being transgender too. I want to come out of the closet and be me. But mum is having a hard time dealing with it, and dad won't even acknowledge that I told him. Ugh._

_So yeah. I'm sorry again, but I won't have any more chapters up in a while. I'm too sick and too busy. Sorry bros. I love you and I hope you will forgive me :p love you._


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